


Piercing the Veil of Snow

by Dagger_Lies



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mages Guild, Thalmor, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-12-26 15:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagger_Lies/pseuds/Dagger_Lies
Summary: Fleeing from the chaos he unleashed at the College of Winterhold, Ancano becomes disoriented in the frozen wastes. Suffering hypothermia in the wilderness, but determined not to perish, he uses the last of his energy to throw himself on the mercy of whomever is living at an isolated barrow. A stroke of serendipity could follow in the wake of a tragedy.





	1. Chapter One: Fleeing the Eye of Magnus

##  Chapter One: Fleeing the Eye of Magnus

It felt like a thousand daggers scoring fine lines across his body, shallow cuts that burnt like the fires of Oblivion. His once smooth, golden skin was now an intricate composition of crosshatches that bled with every twitch. The past week was now a dim patina of memories that had begun with and seemingly would soon end with, the Eye of Magnus. Excavations in Saarthal had uncovered the ancient magical orb and a decision had been made to relocate the priceless artefact to the College of Winterhold. Thus began, the deterioration of his sanity. 

From the moment his amber eyes met the sphere held aloft through inherent magical energy, Ancano was enthralled. At first, he’d tried to exercise caution, to observe from afar. He researched, read and interrogated, but all historical accounts and answers said the same; it was an unstable magical power, coveted by Elves ever since the Atmorans first uncovered it in the Merethic Era. That should have served as a serious warning, instead, it furthered his curiosity. A captivating enigma crafted by someone or something long since forgotten and the possibilities contained within the Eye lit a candle in the core of his being. It was if a dormant flame had been ignited, the very thought of which set his blood to boiling. 

Hindsight was a useless tool, in the present situation. The raw energy of the Eye threatened to shred the tenuous bonds of his existence as it flowed through his veins. Archmage Aren was dead, flung from the Hall of Elements when he’d tried to confront Ancano and the unstable Eye had released a torrent of vicious magicka. The moment replayed continually in his mind as he began to further disassociate from his enraptured body. It was a strange sensation, being held in the grasp of the Eye; it was like standing on the edge of revolution yet knowing you could fall at any point; it was bliss and misery amalgamated. When the Dragonborn arrived armed with a mysterious staff, Ancano soon discovered that the balance between bliss and misery was a razor’s edge. The vengeful wrath of the Dragonborn and the Eye, feeling betrayed, both soon turned on Ancano who knew he had to flee or forfeit his existence. There were many noble pursuits worth dying for and this was not one of them. It took all the scant willpower left in him to sever the bond between himself and the orb. When the Eye of Magnus released more magical anomalies to defend itself, Ancano took advantage of the distraction and fled. 

Inclement weather did little to lessen the pain of the searing imprints on his skin, even as the chill soon pierced his robes. He ran, not knowing where his steps took him, unable to see through the frost that hung heavy in the air. Rocks, hidden under snowdrifts, tripped him continually, but the wounds on his shins and palms were nothing compared to the lingering, malignant magic that was poisoning him. When he could no longer run, he walked and when he could no longer walk, he crawled. Hope threatened to leave him, but his pride wouldn’t let him succumb. Men had a saying, _from the frying pan into the fire_ , and he laughed, a sharp, desolate sound, at the irony of it all. Ancano wouldn’t let his death be at the hands of nature after all he’d endured. 

Darkness would soon fall like a cloak upon the land and if he didn’t find shelter soon, his life would fade quicker than the light. There were no signs of life apart from the frozen clicking of ice wraiths that he only heard, and never saw. The lack of other signs of life made him panic, the anxious trembling combined with shaking as his wrecked body tried to maintain it’s decreasing warmth. At first, he had fled with no sense of direction, but slowly, as his tortured mind began to regain strength, Ancano had tried to keep to a southerly course, knowing that there were scatters of settlements between the College and Windhelm. His initial fear made him flee too far to the east and now, he was hopelessly lost. 

Snowflakes clung to the sharp lines of his face as it became harder to keep his eyes open. Small clumps of ice hung from his eyebrows and lashes, further limiting his vision. Each exhale that left his body took another part of his lifeforce with it, the burning in his throat still nothing compared to the illusion of burns across his skin. The wind cut through his navy robes and he felt the sting in his bones. He tried to summon flames to warm himself, but they came in short, sharp bursts. Even his magicka was fading, slowly withering along with its host. The light of his small flares reflected off the snowpack, reminding Ancano of the glitter of Alinor. Never had he longed for home so desperately, and he doubted he would ever see Summerset again, at least not willingly. If the Thalmor found him now, they’d take him home in chains, if he were lucky. His failure to secure the Eye of Magnus would be deemed an inexcusable failure and Ancano knew how the Dominion dealt with failures. 

Tears froze as they left his eyes, but the chattering of his teeth shook the icicles loose. Nearly everything was black now, the landscape of misery was largely hidden but was still felt. He knelt in the snow, exhausted by struggling to remain this vertical. Darkly, he wondered what would remain of his body if he did survive? Everything ached and screamed – surely frostbite was killing his already agonised flesh? His head was leaden and all he wanted to do was yield to the pain. With a last, helpless scan of the charcoal horizon, he noticed an area just to his left that was darker than the others. Struggling against the chains of necrosis, he heaved his tall frame upright and lurched towards the darkness only to realise, when he collided with it, that it was a stone. He slumped against the behemoth of basalt that had been set purposefully into the ground, his sluggish brain struggling to comprehend the significance. As he dragged himself around the stone, he was dimly aware of what appeared to be another, similar one, in the distance. _An ancient Nordic processual alignment_ , his brain told him, each word slowly filtering through his consciousness. _Shelter_ , a small partition of his mind that was still intact screamed. Collapsed on the frozen ground, his golden skin turning blue, it took an age for Ancano to realise what his cognisance had been telling him. 

He crawled more often than he walked as he determinedly followed the sarsen stones. Coordinating his limbs into a forward momentum was hellish and he prayed to Auri-El with each faltering movement. A whickering sound broke through his numbness. Snapping his head up at the noise, he saw a barrow rising before him. The Nordic tomb was flickering in the gloom and Ancano didn’t know if this was real or hallucinatory. He wanted to yell, to call for help, regardless of who the owner of the whinnying horse might be, but his parched throat could produce no sound. Using the last of his strength, he crested the sides of the barrow, only realising his folly when he pitched into the hollow interior. What felt like the last breath he’d ever draw was forced out of him, as he landed painfully in the sheltered entrance to the tomb. It was immediately warmer, he noted, lying on his side, as the biting winds skirted the circular structure. There was a strange warmth cascading out of his lips and when he tried to inhale, everything felt strangely wet. Suddenly, he found himself rolled on his back and the ache in his chest was spreading. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered; no longer did his body or mind have the energy for situational awareness. His vision was blurring rapidly and the last thing he saw was a pair of violet eyes hovering above his own. 


	2. Chapter Two: Reflections of Frozen Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karliah still feels the pain of the past.

## Chapter Two: Reflections of Frozen Guilt

Twilight bathed the frozen landscape as the sun, Magnus, dipped below the horizon. The time of Nocturnal, the Night Mistress drew closer with the fading light. Karliah sat in the dusk, perched on the rim of Snow Veil Sanctum, reflecting on the grief that forever bound her to this place. It had been 25 years since her lover, Gallus, had been murdered in the depths of this very barrow. Since then, her life had been no more than a series of fleeting moments spent across Tamriel, as she ran from the pain and fear. Mercer Fray was the bodily characterisation of her pain and fear; he was the man who had murdered Gallus Desidenius and framed her for it. 

For over two decades she had a lived a transient life, trying to spend no more than a few nights in any one place, but the stress had begun to take its toll. Karliah was resilient, strong and proud; she was a Dunmer after all. But her strength had begun to ebb after so long running. Not all her travel had been miserable, though. Anxiety had tangled with joy and she had witnessed countless beautiful sights. From her ancestral homeland wreaked by volcanic ash, to the warm sands of Elsweyr, Karliah had adventured far and wide. It had become increasingly difficult, in recent years, to see the glimmer of hope in life, as the numbness began to spread. 

Karliah was sure Mercer had relished entombing Gallus’ lifeless body in this place, a tomb at the desolate edge of the world. Gusts of frozen air tangled her chestnut locks, but she remained oblivious to the bite of the wind, focused on the pain festering inside her. Compared to the numbness, this pain was almost a welcome respite. Despite the length of time since his death, Karliah had never once dared to go deep enough into the barrow to where Gallus rested. She was bound to this place in life, just as he was bound to it in death. The bond had drawn her back to this monument of bereavement sporadically over the years. Yet, whenever she ventured into the catacombs, all her strength fled. Endeavouring to locate Gallus’ remains would force her to say goodbye to him and despite all the time that had passed, she wasn’t yet strong enough. 

To the north, reflected in her violet eyes, strange flashes set the afternoon sky aglow. The lightshow didn’t draw Karliah out of her contemplation; it redirected it. In another lifetime, she had acquaintances at the College. In this lifetime, she had no-one. It was rare for the fangs of loneliness to pierce beneath her skin. History had taught her to rely only on herself. But at this place, with the skyline burgeoning activity, the ache returned. Grief was an interconnected emotion and the closer you looked, the more holes you found. When Gallus died, Karliah lost not only him, but everyone in the wider group they had called family and unless you were referring to Mercer Fray, the thieves in their guild were not without honour. They may not have been blood, but the people in Riften’s Ragged Flagon had been Karliah’s family. When she was framed for the murder of their Guild Master, they marked her for death, and rightfully so; she would have done the same. 

As the wind cut across her slate skin, it stole the warmth and left blue lips in its wake. With quick fingers, she pulled her cowl down, to shield against the wind and to close the chapter on reminiscence. She stood and danced around the rim of the barrow, making her limbs tingle with the return of normal blood flow. On the southern side of the tomb, largely protected from the sting of the wind fresh off the frozen sea, her horse stood on a cleared patch of ground. A worn, but functional, rug covered the mare, more for Karliah’s comfort than the mare’s, who seemed indifferent to the weather. Briefly, she buried her head in the bay mane of her only friend, breathing in the comforting scent that seemed inherent to all horses. Content that her companion was safe, she circled down the stone steps from the top of the barrow that led to the open-air entryway. The courtyard that was nestled amongst the surface remains of the tomb provided a modicum of protection from the elements, without the risk of draugr. A quick gesture sent flames into a small pile of pine logs, as Karliah sat closer to the fire than others would dare. She craved the warmth as all Dunmer do, fundamentally drawn to the flicker and flare. 

Sparks flew into the dark sky as the pine resin ignited. Her leathers had become like a second skin and she didn’t know if she could sleep without them. Instead, Karliah removed only her bow, quiver and sword belt for the night, but they remained within easy reach. A dagger remained strapped across the front of her left shoulder; it was too cold and dangerous to risk removing anything else. Hugging her legs, Karliah rested her head on her knees and allowed her breathing to deepen. When she closed her eyes, she could concentrate on her surroundings. The tension began to leave her muscles as her other senses awoke. Flames licking the logs sent crackles of smoke into the cold air that whistled overhead. As she inhaled, Karliah tasted the acridity. The delicate tips of her pointed ears remained safely protected beneath a cowl, but they remained highly sensitive. Faintly, in the distance, the trees whispered to each other and wolves sang to the moon. It was a beautiful evening, but Karliah recognised the cruelty that hid in nature, waiting to strike. 

Shuttering the windows of her mind, content that there was no immediate danger, Karliah let the welcome embrace of sleep caress her. Slumber didn’t always bring solitude, but for a few hours she could escape the phantoms of guilt. A whinny cut through the peace of her trance like a scythe through wheat. Bolting upright, dagger drawn, she scanned the shadows for life or undeath. Adrenaline galloped through her tired limbs as her mare continued to snort. The uneven sound of footsteps on the snowpack drifted to her, their direction warped by the gusts. Before she could slip up the stairs to survey, a large silhouette detached from the gloom to plummet into the barrow. The force of the fall drove all the breath out of the figure, the exhalation creating a surge of fog from where they lay, having narrowly avoided Karliah and the fire. Gilded embroidery stitched into midnight fabric reflected the light of the flames, as Karliah stood astonished. She recognised the clothes as belonging to the Thalmor, an arm of the Aldmeri Dominion whose presence was largely unwelcome in the wilds of Skyrim. Soft whimpers marked the figure facing away from her as alive, and startled Karliah out of her surprise. With a dagger still in hand, she crouched beside the intruder, noting how they shivered. Using her free hand, she grasped a broad shoulder and rolled it towards herself, having to use more force than originally planned. A shock of silver hair, like starlight, surrounded a sharp golden face that was pinched in pain. With a strain, the mer’s amber eyes flickered open and bored into her own, before his face relaxed and he slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for the encouraging comments on the previous chapter.  
> I wanted a chapter to mirror Ancano's struggle, but I struggled with this. Decades on, Karliah is still struggling with her trauma and grief, and it was difficult to write. But, I tried!  
> As always, comments, critiques and suggestions are welcome.  
> Apologies if I got any canonical or grammatical elements wrong.


End file.
